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[Dwarmin]

She considered a moment, leaving back in her chair.

"It was a small price to pay to best such a creature. Though, one would hope there is not many more of them out there, or they shall surely bankrupt the kingdom..." She commented lightly. "I will compensate you thusly as you wish-after I paid my debt to the king, of course, of a single ducats worth.

As for your old sword, with your permission, I will have it placed on the Battle Shrine with the rest of them-it is my own peoples way to construct a revered burial place to remember our dead in great battles, by placing broken arms and armor in reliquary around pillars of stone, along with names of the dead carved into it. The broken lie with the broken.

We honor the Third in our own way, though I cannot claim to be a fervent worshipper myself.

Needless to say, it will take many years and many pillars to properly account for this battle." She finished, drawing and drinking her own cup of water. Her tone was even and calm.

[filiusenox]

Move out towards the barrow and encircle it. Once surrounded, see if the entrance can bl blocked with a stone and if not, stoke up a big fire at the entrance to the barrow to flush them out with heat and smoke to cut them down in the open.

With that he turned away drawing one sword from it sheath and holding it up high, his men give off a ragged cheer as he approaches and the captains quickly form up around him as the battle draws near ...

[~] As the army arrives, the find the creatures waiting. Two knights, for that is the only name of these terrible creatures made of metal and rotten flesh, stand beside a massive, rotten creature of congealed flesh and bone. Long claws, pincers, and other ungodly things twitch and move as it calls out a challenge to duel.
To which the commander agrees. He fights the beast, but, in the end, Valerian falls to a chest wound, and Ramus is beaten down by the creature after wounding it, collapsing to the ground.

[2+1] vs [1] Hrosskar is made to duel the other knight by Valerian. The first blow they trade wounds the dark creature, bilious blood dripping from a savage cleft of its rotten shoulder.

[3+1] vs [4] The second exchange of blows are blocks and counter parries and what-not, driving each other closer and farther away, neither side losing or gaining ground as they swap blows with one another.

[6+1] vs [4] With a swift hack, an arm flies off, dropping to the ground amongst rotten pus and black blood.

[3+1] vs [4]

[2] vs [5] Hrosskar takes a savage blow to his shield-arm(?) that draws blood as the creature dances away, licking the blood from his blade with an overlong tongue, a strange smirk appearing on it's face.

[4] vs [1] With a final snickerty snack, Hrosskar cleaves the very head from the beast, dropping it to the ground and killing it with a flurry of savage blows.

[1] Now, free from his own duel, he turns towards the heavily wounded, bleeding creature, finally looking at it, and he's paralyzed for a few long moments, as Valarian and Ramus both fall to the creature's claws. When he finally snaps out of it, he's the last chance to defeat the creature and put an end to the Ghouls, as well as save his commander.

[Urist_McDrowner]

"NO! I have not lost a commander and I will NOT. START. NOW!" Hrosskel barreled towards the creature, mace held high and shield braced against his chest. "I'm coming, Valerian!"

Coming closer now, he began to pick up speed on his mace, swinging it in a figure eight to give it velocity for when he would strike the foul creature. A deadly thrum followed the weighty club, its pitch sharpening with each swing. 


Charge headlong and attempt to fight the beast

[filiusenox]

Charge headlong and attempt to fight the beast

[~]With a sickening crunch, you slam your mace down hard into the creature’s skull. Bone, and blood and gore and pus splatter outwards, and over you. There’s a hiss of breath, before it collapses into a pile, twitching feebly. Moments later, as if somebody had cut their strings, the shambling ghouls fall as well, dying as their master’s life is snuffed out.
You’re heavily wounded, but still standing, and Valerian and Ramus are carried away on stretchers towards the medics, and you soon are swept off your feet and following.

[Shootandrun]

Jarod looked at the sword thoughtfully, and eventually he nodded.

"Take it. Only a fool conserves a weakened sword - brittle steel may as well not be steel at all."

He lifted his left hand and scratched at the scar over his missing eye. The motion was awkward at best, with his fingers barely flexing, but he did not seem to really pay it any mind. He spoke again, and his voice was lighter.

"There is one more favor I must ask, but fear not - this one will not be another plea for money. I will return to the capital to recover, and I doubt I will leave for at least a month, perhaps more. Since I'll have much time on my hands, I believe I will study what the books say of the creatures in this realm. I ought to already have done it, but I felt I was needed elsewhere, what with the disappearing village...

Well, it matters not. My point was that if there are any books you believe could be of use in your libraries, I would appreciate if you could send them my way. I do not need children's tales, but anything remotely serious could hold an hint of truth, under superstition and fancy, and even an hint of truth could be life saving, one day.

In fact, I believe we ought to keep a line of messengers between Blackberry and the capital. I may not be able to go on the field for a while, but my troops will. If other creatures make an incursion in your lands, I see no reason why you should face them with your men alone while mine sit around for months. Although I will take them back with me - from the capital, I will be able to respond to any danger in any part of the realm, not just the north - do not hesitate to call for them, should you feel the need."

He stopped talking for half a second, and shook his head.

"Well, I speak as though I already know you will stay in your duchy, but I do not. You are the King's Hand, now, and perhaps you have some unfinished affairs in the capital waiting for your return... Will you be coming back with me, or are you going to remain here, my lady?"

[Dwarmin]

Araline studied her nails.

"You figure correctly. I will need to have a presence here for a short while, that is true-my people need to be reminded I am still here to help them. At least until things are resettled. Your offer of help is appreciated, as well.

As for the books, my family library is small-most of our local traditions are passed down by word and not hand-but what there is, I will make available to you. Do you have any particular suggestions? Some of our best works are from the Blackrock Monks, who have long studied the hearts and mind of evil in man or beast.

Personally, I found them a trifle dry and long winded, but one can find anything if looking hard enough."

...

She would later have the literature sent in caravan, committing only certain things...

Action: Araline scours her families collection of lore and makes it available to Jarod to do with as he wishes. Mention of the Ar Aréille is kept away, of course.

After that business was over, she turned to others.

"...in any case, we should talk about the battle. I do not believe I needed your help to win, but it was certainly appreciated...and you saved my forces many casualties, by trading your own. We both know how that news will be received in the court, and I hope you know nothing about it was personal-I sought a leverage against my attack to end the battle as quick as possible, and you were there, that is all."

[Shootandrun]

Jarod frowned at these last words. It was a slight frown, and it disappeared soon enough, swept away by a shrug and a vague smile.

"Worry not about it, my lady. I saw the numbers, and I know you could have won without me or my men, even though it might have been a little dicier. I lost a full regiment, I believe, and the main backlash will be amongst the priests who passed it along to me - though word of my achievements here might convince them it was worth it. I believe I am the first man to have killed a werewarg of that power in generations, and the reputation gained by that should offset the lost men, if I can do some talking, smiling and apologizing.

I could not have taken on those wargs without you present, yet I will probably end up with no small part of the glory. That seems like a fair trade. The dead may not think it so, but better to have a hundred of my men six feet below the ground than three hundred of yours."

Again, he shrugged.

"Ah, I am no politician. Perhaps I should be demanding compensation for the lost men, but I do not think it is necessary. The investors will have to cringe and frown - these lives did not go to waste."

[Dwarmin]

Araline nodded in turn, in her own odd way.

"I think we both know what demands like that would have gotten you...

I remember my promise, of course, and will support your deeds if need be against your detractors...though, outside of this tent, things will understandably be different between us. I am indeed a politician, unfortunately. It requires a certain blurring of morality, which is hardly for anyone who wishes to sleep easy at night.

To say, you know I must sometimes do publicly things I find distasteful to those I might call friend, in other times and circumstances. Do you catch the thread of my words in your minds spindle, Jarod?"

She smiled beatifically.

Though Araline did not think to mention it, she rarely if ever lost sleep despite all the things she had done to gain and keep power. She in fact, rarely felt remorse at all. To the heart of the matter-her core could be as cold as ice, and she would have plunged her dagger into Jarods chest at that very moment if the vital need had arisen.

Of course, these thoughts and feelings...hidden behind her placid masque.

[Shootandrun]

Jarod frowned, and this time it remained where it was.

"I catch the thread and see where it is going, but not how it ends. The story of what happened today is not between the two of us alone - all of my men saw it, and all of yours, too. Unless we executed all of mine and somehow found a way to convince an entire army of king's men not to spread word of it all, we cannot keep the story here a secret - and we can do little to warp it, too.

As such, perhaps I will seem like an uneducated fool blind to the ways of the court if I ask, but I must - is there truly need to blur morality, when in the end it will change little of this battle's consequences?"

There was a new hint behind his voice. He was still very polite, and showed no anger - but there was something, definitely. A little more strength, although it could have been called a little more steel. It was no threat, but it hinted that he did find such actions distasteful.

[Dwarmin]

Araline suppressed a non-plussed roll of the eyes. She hated explaining seemingly obvious things.

"...The outcome of the battle is not in question-but people will ask who accomplished what and how poorly or greatly they did so, and if one or the other should receive more of the accolades. You and I know that such questions are pointless and meandering, but it is the realm of politics to dissect such things and their effect on Nocte. Simply put, I will take an outcome that adheres to my own credit, and use it as I wish. I lost very little, and gained much after all. If asked, I will take the credit for the victory upon myself. As well, should you claim your own part just as greatly-though you have less to show for it. There is no need for you to sweeten my own position by playing the humble one, unless you are sweet on my continued personal favor for reasons of your own.

But, these are the words and deeds only valued by lesser men, that I engage in to keep my position secure-not worthy of lengthy consideration to warriors, such as yourself. We both knew the truth of what happened, and between us their shall be no blurring, right?" She said, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder. The injured one.

[adwarf]

Action: Araline scours her families collection of lore and makes it available to Jarod to do with as he wishes. Mention of the Ar Aréille is kept away, of course.

Aralines forces gather up any pelts remaining in good condition for sale.

2 ducats are set to rebuilding, aid and medical efforts for the people. Araline stays and oversees this, reminding her people of all the hard word on their behalf. A per-head bounty is set for hunters eager to slay any remaining wargs in the land.

[?,?] Within a week a small chest full of books finds its way to Jarod's chambers in the capital city of Finster, many of them have plain leather bindings and show signs of old age, but a few seem to be lavishly decorated and much more recent seemingly related to old legends of Nocte. Pouring over the books proves to be nearly worthless, but just as Jarod is about to give up he comes upon a page in the back of one of the older books,

"In the deep northern reaches of Nocte there exists a tale dating back to the founding of our great nation, little is known of this legend except that it speaks of a great war the primitive tribes of Nocte waged against immortal beasts that came from far to the north. From the ends of the world some say, it speaks of monsters who are bastards of man and warg, not one yet not the other. They wield skills beyond that of any mortal, and that only the strike of gold will turn them back. A fragment of this tale lies below,

'One day when Nocte is at its weakest they will return to avenge what was lost, in this time of darkness only the words of the A ...' "

The rest has been torn from the page, quite hastily by the appearance of it, and what else may have been written upon it is lost to you though a thought keeps bugging you. Just what is it that page spoke of, and why would someone destroy such important words ...

---------------------

[2,3] The people of Blackberry quickly set about the grim work, bodies of the dead are hauled off for burial, soldiers pick through the field searching for wounded, and many set to work clearing the field of the wargs. Those that are at least mostly intact are skinned for their pelts and soon enough two carts lie burdened with the thick furs of the beasts, worth a tiny fortune yet nowhere near worth the cost paid.

Elsewhere citizens of Blackberry begin to rebuild as supplies are bought and handed out, new buildings raised, and numerous patrols sent through the lands to reclaim and fix what had been destroyed by the wargs. Many people soon get back to their lives and semblance of what used to be begins to take the place of the horrors that occurred, though a scar will be left you are sure that your people and land will recover soon enough.

Araline gains 5 Ducats of Warg Pelts
1 Parcel is reclaimed, rebuilt, and returned to Araline's leadership.

[Ardas]

It seemed that Life in Nocte was harsh for both poor and rich, for death and pain know no master or rank. At present many noble or high-ranked people suffered at the hands of the beasts invading form the north, and it seemed that it would not be the last battle.

As he awoke from his slumber, he felt pain as it shot through him, bringing him to full consciousness.
This was perhaps the first time in his life when he got trounced so bad he had barely any strength to open his eyes, let alone move. He let out a painful moan, and managed to sit up.
The hastily erected tend sheltered him but it was obvious that this was no place to stay for any longer than he had to. Whiel he was unable ot get up on a horse and probably wouldn't for the next couple of weeks, he felt that if he could deal with the pain...
He winced as another painful jolt shot through him. He resigned himself to just resting for now and called in his guard.

"Sir, are you alright?"
"As much as a torn up man can be, but yes, I'm fine mostly... I hope everyone else is fine?
"Yes sir, only Remus was somewhat injured too but he is fine"
"Good to know. No point in staying here... just make ready and we are leaving for Finster. Don't worry about me, just put me on a wagon and we can get there. Lets swing by the duchy and pick up our prisoner too."
"As you wish Captain".

Make it back to the captial with all men. Make our way through Ceadan to pick my our prisoner.

[Urist_McDrowner]

"Not so much as a thanks, master?" Valerian didn't even acknowledge Hrosskel's noble charge. Did he not save his life?  That ghoul was going to tear Valerian to pieces but not for loyal Hrosskel and his mace. He was upset, and rightly so. Nevertheless, he made good to his profession and soldiered on, dissimulating but taking no pleasure in doing so.

He swung his mace around as he rode on his horse, bored, striking out at a tree and sending bark flying every time he thought of the ingratitude while trying to make it look like an absent-minded strike on a trunk of wood. Of course, he wasn't completely recovered, but the pain in his shoulder was more bearable than the shame of being so ignored.

He caught up to his lord and attempted to broach the subject. "Lord, when we go into town, will you mention my heroic deeds to your peers? I may need other employment in the future if I want to slow down."


Accompany Valerian to the Capital.

[Dwarmin]

Araline returned to the capital after overseeing rebuilding in her lands, in all the triumph and pageantry of the old days-drummers, banner carriers, and singing war skalds in numbers unseen for many years. Local growers and chefs set up stalls-selling expensive but delicious snacks, like crisped turnovers, Hanged mans shoots, Mandrake tongues and fried cheese-stuffed blue beetle shells. Followed by the frenzied salesmen offering wargen themed goods, most real and others knockoffs-the fashion of the month had arrived. The pickpockets and towns guards began another round of their eternal dance.

There were even children gathered to toss blue rose petals on the soldiers from the roofs above, a tradition sign of Noctian good luck. It had been too long, she thought, that the people had enjoyed such things...not, that she enjoyed them overmuch herself. But it was important to keep up appearances, and such a resounding victory would reflect well on her-and by extension, The King.

She rode at the front of the procession, wearing her new pure white Warg coat, wrapped snugly about her shoulders-as so, did many of her soldiers, those they often wore black or brown-along with wolf bone jewelery, teeth strung across the neck being most common. For many generations, the two heavy units would come to be known as the Warg-Slayers and the Wolf-Cloaks, adopting wolf motifs for their banners and emblems.

...

She arrived in the throne room first, only stopping to shake a few hands and caress a few egos-already carefully plotting-and there she waited for King Logan, if he was not already there.

In truth, Araline was more than eager to show him her new wounds in private, but public ceremony took precedence. She paced carefully, awaiting his summons. The chest with his money was displayed prominently at her side-no one would say Duchesse Araline did not pay her debts.

Action: Name the two heavy units the Warg-Slayers and the Wolf Cloaks, respectively. Both groups are rewarded with a half ducat each in wargen cloaks and jewelery as victory tokens.

Araline pays back King Logan with another single ducat.

[Ghazkull]

Just at this moment, Logan comes barging into the throneroom a servant in his wake.

What do you mean waiting? You goddamnn idiots i might be a king but i won't let people wait, get that in your incest ridden brain and now bring me to her before i skin your exc-

Just at this moment Logan notices her.

There you are! You look beautiful in that new cloak. I heard you had fun hunting dogs in the North

His deep scowl immediately vanished in her presence.